Blind I: The story of Corbin LaVey
by Dictator of the Lab
Summary: How can someone with the eyes of a bat solve Murders? This is the Biography of Corbin LaVey and her trials of the FBI.
1. Prologue

Blind I

Dictator of the Lab

I smelled it first. Strangely sweet, yet the sheer strength of it made me gag. It reeked of automobile exhaust, but also decomposing matter. I took a moment to prepare myself before advancing.

"No chance we'll be selling that Ford," and unfamiliar voice commented about 115 degrees to my right. I turned around and raked my cane side to side. After approximately ten feet I stopped when my cane caught on a wall.

"Who in their right mind brings a blind girl to a crime scene?" Obvious surprise.

"I do," a voice I recognized. It belonged to my partner from the FBI, Paris Stauer. I heard footsteps to my left.

"Cori, the victim is male, about 5 days since he breathed his last breath. My guess? Carbon monoxide poisoning."

"Evidence of suicide?" I had leaned against the building, listening to Paris relay the crime scene to me.

"I'm not going to conclude that yet. Appears so, except that this guy," He snapped his fingers in the general direction of the other voice, "says 'those ain't Manny's keys'."

"Is 'Manny' the victim?"

"I dunno, lets ask him."

"Y-yeah, th-that's Manny, but, those are-not-my-keys."

"Who all had access to those keys."

"Everyone, man, those are the test drive keys." I heard Paris exhale. There was a long silence before the other voice broke it.

"You never told me who the deaf chick is."

"She's BLIND, not deaf. She is not a 'chick'. So, will you please apologize to Miss Corbin LaVey?"

"Sorry, man."

"Woman," I corrected before gesturing to Paris to bring the man into questioning.

-D. I.—

"Time magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey'_:

Corbin LaVey was born blind, but somehow she manages to solve a murder every once in a while with the FBI. Her blindness has heightened her other senses. Not only does she have the nose of a highly trained Cadaver Dog, the hearing of a bat, and the gentle, sensitive touch of a butterfly, but an IQ that is off the charts…"


	2. Chapter 1

Blind I

Dictator of the Lab

At my desk, there were only three objects: A keyboard with dots instead of letters, a large printer, and a small statue of Helen Keller. I typed on my keyboard, gazing in its general direction. _'May twenty-second, two thousand nine- Case FJN09-6478-0003. Victim found at a car sales lot, approximately five days since death. Primary findings suggest Carbon Monoxide poisoning-' _I hovered my fingers over the keys, thinking _'-Will get further instructing from the coroner. Suspects: ((All nicknames provided by an outside affiliation to the deceased. ))Richard 'Ricky' Maynard- Boss at the car lot, George 'Toolz' Toolman- Co-worker also best salesman, Rochelle 'Shelly' Gomez-Vic's girlfriend… Victim: Manuel 'Manny' Jesuarah. Ethnicity: Hispanic, Approximate Age: 23, Residence:…" _I transcribed my mental notes. I searched for the button on my keyboard: Prnt. When my fingers found the Braille letters, I hit it. My Printer buzzed to life. Long sheets of legal sized paper aligned on the tray. Removing one, I slid my fingers over the punches. 'Perfect,' I thought.

"Cori? I'm going to talk to the ME, wanna come?" I nodded, grabbed my notes and cane, and made my way to the elevator. Paris and I stood in silence until the doors creaked open. The strong odor hit me again, but more subdued this time. I felt around before finding a long metal table. I stopped, looking up. The ME took that as his turn to speak.

"Detective LaVey! You never come down here!" I heard the slapping of latex being removed from skin. Then, he snapped his fingers. My right hand found his; we shook.

"I've told you before, _Doctor Randall_, if I call you Sam, then you have to call me Corbin at the least!"

"Very well, Corbin. Toxicology reports found alcohol, but in a lower dose. I'd say he was very drunk two days prior to his death. Cause of death was in fact Carbon Monoxide poisoning, but it wasn't suicide. The victim, Mr. Jesuarah, had duct tape adhesive on his wrists, ankles, and mouth. All were removed prior to you finding him."

"Toolman, cr-…ud," I covered.

"What?" Sam and Paris replied simultaneously.

"We let him go, he had an alibi. He's probably halfway to New York, now."

"Is there a connection to the Diaspirate Cases?"

"Probably."

Time Magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey':_

Detective LaVey held an interview with Authoress Kennedy Burns:

Burns (B:): What was the first case you worked on?

LaVey (L :): Well, the first case with the FBI was actually a serial killer case. They had issues with bodies appearing in dumpsters behind department stores. Each body was clothed in a designer sweater and jewelry. That was also my first case working with a partner, Paris Stauer.

B: Has this affiliation with a federal investigation, for want of a better word, group affected you work?

L: Quite the contrary. I love working with Paris… and the FBI.

B: Back to that first case. Did your handicap hinder your ability to get a feel for the crime scenes?

L: Not at all. When your partner can describe it in detail, you have no issues.

B: But you have been blind since birth, correct?

L: Yes… Is that supposed to change something?

B: No, I'm just wondering. Now, more about this Partner, Paris…

L: I see no reason to bring detective Stauer into this. What was that about my first case?

B: What techniques did you use to solve the case?

L: We never did.

B: What?

L: He's still at large. Almost every other case we have now is related. Every single related body was duct taped at the wrist, ankles, and mouth, and the duct tape was removed before the body was found.

B: Can you tell us a little about the cases?

L: No…

B: Oh, well then… I guess this interview is over…

L: It would appear so.


	3. Chapter 2

Blind I

Dictator of the Lab

Again I was at my desk. I was reading old case files from the Diaspirate cases. There were a total of 116 different cases. Only five of them followed the initial 'rule' the killer set up: designer clothing and jewelry. 25 followed the 'behind-department-stores' rule. All of them had the post-death duct tape removal scenario. There were, counting all the department stores as one, 37 different dump places. Those included: Parade floats (3 cases), Amusement parks (10 cases), reality show set, 3 pools in the same neighborhood, and, most recently, vehical showrooms. After noting these occurrences, I printed out my new notes, and replaced the old ones in their box. I was re-reading my notes when someone shouted, just to my left.

"I got a hit on his passport! Toolman went to Canada, stayed there for twelve hours, and then returned. I wonder what he was doing there…" I sighed at one of the Agents words. I removed my glasses and ran my fingers through my hair.

"I doubt it was Toolman, guys," I said to no one in particular, "If you look at his other records, he goes to Canada often, just for a few hours. He was in Canada five days ago." They all sounded defeated. I turned back to my notes and remembered my first case…

"_Who the heck are you?"_

"_Detective Corbin LaVey. You are?"_

"_Stauer." I heard the distinct sound of a badge flipping open. I reached for it, running my hands over the cool metal badge._

"_What the heck are you doing?"_

"_Looking at the badge."_

"_Well, can you look with your EYES not your HANDS?"_

"_Ahh, no one told you? I thought I was making it obvious."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_This is going to be a long case."_

"Time magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey'_:

Excerpt from LaVey's autobiography "Blind I"

"…at the age of five my parents had to send me to school. The optometrist recommended I go to a 'special school'. Then, I didn't know what was wrong, or that anything was wrong. I just knew that I was not ordinary.

At this 'special school' I learned my ABC's, apparently like any other kid, and how to add and read. I thought language came in two parts. What you say and the little dots on the papers. I went there until third grade. After that, my parents opted to send me to a regular school that I could get proper friends at. When I got into class, the teacher helped me to my desk, and showed me where I could put my cane so I could get to it later. When Class started, she introduced me to the class. "Class, this is Cori. She is obviously new to our class. You may have noticed she is a little _special_. She is blind. That means she can not see. What was that sense called class? ("Sight") Remember Susan's Grandfather came in last week, and he had his dog? That was his _seeing-eye_ dog." I raised my hand.

"Miss Belic? What is sight?""


	4. Chapter 3

Blind I

Dictator of the Lab

I cracked my neck and stood up. Seeing nowhere to go, I sat down. The elevator rang its signal for stopping across the room. Paris audibly walked in, stomping loudly, and shouting.

"Stan, I need the vic's Girlfriend's address. James, the boss. Tim, the vic's. On it people! We are going to catch the Psycho that murdered those one hundred people! Anyone? Does anyone have anything for me?" I leaned back in my seat. I heard furious typing and clicking. Moments later, three 'Done!'s rang out in the office.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I heard Paris pull three papers out of our co-workers hands. His footsteps made their way to my desk. "Come on. You are coming with me."

"No!" No one was telling me where to go. I had to get home and feed my dog. "You know 'Kita needs me home!"

"Five minutes?"I raised my eyebrow. It was going to take more than five minutes for us even to get to the truck. "Ten." Another raise of the eyebrow. "No more than twenty." I shrugged, adding a dramatic 'Huhphf' at the end. The was no winning.

"Fine, but you're paying for the coffee tomorrow."

(x)(x)

"Thank you, Ms. Gomez, for your time. I am Detective Paris Stauer, of the East Mesa Police Department, official consultant to the Phoenix FBI. This is my partner-"

"-Detective Corbin LaVey." I stuck out my hand, she limply accepted my handshake. Something about her made me want to shower after talking with her. We sat across from her.

"Its _Shelly_," she breathed out her name towards Paris.

"_Miss Gomez_, were you and Mr. Jesuharah close?" She smacked her lips.

"Very, Why are you asking, Paris?"

"Detective Stauer asked because yesterday, Mr. Jesuharah was found dead. Did he talk about his work often?" I heard her crack her neck. Or maybe it was Paris.

"M-Manny d-didn-n-n-n't e-uh-ver t-talk 'bout-t his j-job. O-Only o-o-o-once. He-he ssssaid th-that To-o-olz was ou-out sssellin' h-him," I could practically hear her shaking.

"That's okay, Miss Gomez. Can I ask you where you were at about six o'clock yesterday morning?" Paris calmed her down before she spoke.

"Home s-sleeping, I think, I was up late last night. I don't remember much, I be-bet y-you know wha-what my job is," 'Shelly' stuttered.

"Yes," I gave him a semi-quizzical look. "Thank you Ms. Gomez. Here is our card if you remember anything useful. We will contact you if we need any more information."

(x)(x)

"Time magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey'_:

Interview conducted by Tobie Jenkins

I caught a word with Detective LaVey as she exited the building with her Partner, Paris Stauer:

J: Detective LaVey! A word?

L: Yes, but strive to make it quick.

J: In what ways do you conquer this handicap?

L: Handicap? What Handicap? I only se- I only found an improvement on the human race. But, to answer your question, I of course, use a cane. The trafficlights by the office and my house ring. I go through intensive light therapy once a week... Oh! And I almost forgot, I'm in a service dog training program. My dog, Nakita, starts her training in one week.

J: Fascinating, Mrs. LaVey!

L: Miss.

J: Excuse me? Oh, there's no _Mr. LaVey_ in the picture?

L:Why is everyone so interested in my love life all of a sudden?

J: Struck a nerve there, did I?

L: Good bye, miss Jenkins.

J:Mrs.

L:Whatever.


	5. Chapter 4

Blind I

"Here we are, Cori. Richard Maynard's 'Biz'." I felt the car break.

"Biz?" I repeated. "Paris, you said it wouldn't be long. It's been fourty five minutes!" I felt for the hands on my watch.

"One last stop, here, then you can be with Nika," he sounded rough.

"Nakita. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing"

"Paris," I laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, throwing his hands up in the air and bringing them down hard on the steering wheel.

"I said nothing, okay! Come on, LaVey, we've got a murderer to catch." His seatbelt zipped away from him and his car door slammed. I slowly unclipped my seatbelt. No sooner did I do so, did Paris bang on my window.

"LaVey, get your blind face out here, we haven't got all day!" At his words I wanted to lock the door and drive off. Too bad I can't drive. I settled for an argument instead. I opened and slammed my door after I exited.

"Stauer, I won't tolerate this _abuse_ from you! Sort out your problems before the FBI's. What's the matter with you anyway?"

"Hey! Nice Taurus! '03 model, I believe. Coal black finish. Classy!" Someone came up behind us. The voice put an arm around each of us. "How many miles are on her?" I rolled his arm off my shoulder. The man's voice was as greasy as his hands.

"Richard Maynard? Detective Paris Stauer, FBI."

"Sorry, no service personnel discounts. Were you looking to trade? I just got a new load of Ford's, all different, the 2010 models. Straight from the factory, they are. Get one today, and one month of GPS service is yours free. And-"

"Can it 'Ricky'. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

"About our Sign Drive promotion?" Obvious fear, sugar-coated with a sale.

"About Manuel Jesuarah."

[-x-]

"Yeah, Manny didn't show up the last couple'a days, but what am I s'posta do? Report him AWOL?" Maynard's office smelled like olives and old salami. I hope he didn't do business here.

"'Manny' did show up. In our morgue. Can you tell us how that happened?" Paris turned on his I've-seen-NYPD's-worst charm.

"I wasn't here yesterday either, man. My wife had our kid." He noisily swung his blackberry from it's clip and apparently showed it to us. Paris' breathing shifted.

"What's his name?" He asked, trying to calm himself.

"Dawson," Maynard returned the phone to his belt.

"Listen Ricky, If you don't help us, next time you see Dawson might be from behind bulletproof 3 ¼ inch glass."

"Any more qu-questions?"

[-x-]

"Time magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey'_:

Excerpt from LaVey's autobiography "Blind I"

I never actually got used to the hard crime. Sometime the descriptions from coworkers and Detective Stauer are probably worse than the actual scene. "Body appears to have been tossed into the dumpster at an angle from twenty five feet, causing severe peri-mortem bruising against the skull. Heavy bleeding suggests the victim was stabbed before falling and remained alive for a while. Insect activity has begun, rendering facial reconstruction at this point…" Much more grisly than seeing a guy in a dumpster with half a face, I would think. Now with the Diaspirate cases, I don't know how long I'll last. I've been through all 116 of this cold killer's victims. Plus all the unrelated cases. I hope we catch this cold blooded murderer. I hate sitting in the elevator on the way to the Morgue asking: "The us[ual]?" and getting "Unfortunately." as a reply.


	6. Chapter 5

Blind I:

"KitaKitaKita!" I hollered entering the room. My apartment was small, but at least I don't get lost. I heard a small bark, the skittering of puppy paws on linoleum (quickly silenced by carpet), and a set of low growls. I snapped twice. "Shh, Nakita. Paris? You can come in." I held the door open. When he had walked in, I closed it.

"Got anything to drink?" He still sounded preoccupied.

"…Water good enough for you?"

"Nothing a-"

"No, Paris." I heard the couch in my den squeak. I brought a bottle of water from my fridge and navigated to the couch. "Here. Nakita!" I felt her warm weight settle on my lap. She had short hair, and her collar had tags in printed raised type in Braille. I readjusted her bandana.

"LeadMe leader dog in training?" He shoved my hand off Kita's head and proceeded to scratch it.

"She's from LeadMe, a local organization that places leader dogs in houses of assisted people. They allowed me to take her home a few days prior to her training start."

"Okay, what is she?"

"Yellow Lab. She's only seven months old, but that's old enough for training."

His phone beeped.

"I gotta take this, one moment." He excused himself into my hallway. Bits of his conversation floated down the hall.

"Claire… no, no I don't… I don't see ho- what do you mean he does? Tell him- no. Bye, Clair, no, I don't want to- Hi-llo. Mark! How are you doing? Good, no, I can't I have to- bye. Claire, I can't no, fine, next week… okay, that works…bye. ARRGGH!" He stomped into my living room. "Cori, I have to-"

"Sit down and tell me what's wrong?" I offered. Paris sighed and took his seat next to me. He sipped from his bottle of water loudly before explaining.

"Seven years ago, I married Claire Dayton. Five years ago we divorced."

"Would you mind telling me why, Paris?"

"Well, she came home one night all giggly saying that she was pregnant. Turns out it- it- it wasn't mine…"

"She was having an affair?"

"Uh, yeah. We'll go with that." Nakita yawned and laid her head on my chest to sleep. "How'd you do that?"

"Slow circles on her neck," I demonstrated as I spoke. "But that's not the point. What do you mean 'we'll go with that'?"

"My brother…"

"Derek? Or Ripley?"

"Ripley. He, uh, was the …dad…" I nearly jumped at his words; nearly waking up Kita.

"But, Ripley's-"

"Dead. I know." I remembered the funeral. Loads of publicity. I, of course, don't remember Ripley Stauer's Murder case. As Paris was my assistant, he couldn't work the case.

"Now what?" I asked, sliding out from under my quickly rowing Labrador. I navigated my way to the kitchen, grabbing for the jar on my counter. I pulled out a few of my office-famous chocolate mint cookies. I ambled back to the couch. Handing Paris a cookie, I urged him to continue.

"Her son, Markus, wants to meet his 'daddy'. His father's dead."

"I think we've established that. Why is Claire calling?"

"She thinks I'm the closest thing to a dad Mark's got."

"Well, he is your…ex-stepson…"

"I have to go. Your cookies are phenomenal, as always. Thanks, I needed to vent." He stood up, reached for Kita, who growled in her sleep, and made to leave. "On her note, bye."

"Bye," I replied. The door slammed shut.

I leaned back. I feel sorry for Paris. His infidelity-believing ex-wife cheated on him, had a child, and wants him to be part of the kid's life. I bit a large chunk out of my cookie. He was right, it was phenomenal. My telephone rang. Two high pitched shrieks, one low. The sound was luckily coming from the coffee table.

"Hello?"

"Cori! How's Nakita?"

"Love you too, Meg." My one-and-only friend that I don't work with groaned. Probably a companion to an eye roll. "She's fine, sleeping. What did ya' call for?"

"Can I come over?"

"Uh hun? Why?"

"I want to try something with Kita." Megan Grabin works for LeadMe. She placed Nakita for me.

"Sure. My door's unlocked."

[-x-]

Time magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey'_

Email interview conducted by Marie Jenesson, Jakob Nacco, and Emilene Vask, journalists for '_Forensics Weekly_'.

FW: What specific techniques do you employ in your cases?

CL: I use several, but they all really depend on the case. A few are: Taking many notes; just sitting down and writing what I know. Another, I visit crime scenes and autopsy often. They allow me to be more involved in the case, as well as hear all information first hand. Lastly, I join Paris when he questions possible suspects.

FW: What connections do you have in the workplace?

CL: As far as friends go, pretty much just Paris and Sam. I don't really have any relationships. When it comes to connections, anyone will do anything for the blind girl!

FW: Word has it you make a mean cookie…?

CL: That's true! Everyone in the office loves my Chocolate Mint cookies. Most people think I can't cook. As long as I'm not preoccupied, I can be practically world-class with my baking.

FW: Thank you for your time.

CL: You are welcome.


	7. Chapter 6

Blind I

The door opened.

"It's me!" Meg shouted. I heard my cookie jar clink and her weight settle on the couch next to me. "Aww, whosocutewhenshe'ssleepin', huhn?" I feigned a confused expression. "Not you, Nakita." At her name, Kita yawned and started to paw at my neck.

"No, Kita, down!" I attempted to save my jugular. She obeyed. "What do you want, Meg?"

"Cori, Cori, Cori, Cori," She drew out my name, "do you seriously believe that I came here to train Nakita?"

"But you-"

"Called to hang out. You've been at the office all week. You need some you time."

"Okay…Wait, what?" She exhaled audibly.

"You know, R and R, fun, maybe a night on the town…" She elaborated. I leaned back, pulling Kita back to my lap.

"I dunno, Meg, I just heard a sad story, and I dunno, the night life ain't for someone like me…"

"Come on! I'll be your chauffer, and I'll make sure you don't get drunk or anything…"

"We are not going drinking!"

"Fine… Have you ever been speed dating?"

"No, and I'm happy being single!" It was true; I've been single for three years. Not even a boyfriend or crazy one night thing.

"Cori, happily single doesn't mean the funnest thing you do is listen to the radio and paint." It was true. I spent almost every night doing just that. Paintings by a blind artist sell for a lot on the internet.

"Yes-"

"Get dressed. Something fancy, but not ritzy…" I groaned and stood up, tossing a sleeping Nakita to the floor. She growled in displeasure.

[x]-[x]

"OH. EM. GEE. Cori, you look…"

"Stupid? Out of place?"

"Fabulous!" I nervously picked at my dress. It was just a simple strapless dress.

"I don't know, Meg, why would I want to?"

"So you don't grow old alone!" My mind drifted to Paris and Claire. I wouldn't want to be like them. "Good call on the dress, black is so your color!"

"I would know that how?"

"Whatever. Come here." I obeyed. She started pinning my hair back in the oddest of places. "Perfect." I rolled my eyes.

"Let's get this over with." I slipped my darkened glasses on and picked up my cane.

[x]-[x]

"Hi! I'm Max Norman!" A bouncy young man shook my hand.

"Cori LaVey." I replied in a flat, monotone voice.

"Like the famous Detective!"

"I am Detective LaVey, yes."

"Wow! What are you working on right now?"

"I can't discuss that outside the office…"

"Aw, but, you can tell _me_…!"

"No I really can't…"

"Did everyone ever tell you that you're really hot?" I stared at him. I waited out the silence until I heard the bell.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Norman…"

"Nice to meet you too, Cori!" I leaned my head back, then took a sip of water. I heard someone sit across from me.

"Axel Walker," He snapped his fingers.

"You work with the blind?" I asked, accepting his handshake.

"My friend does a lot of therapy for them. I'm a pilot for the local hospital's AirVac helicopter."

"Cori LaVey, I'm a detective for the Mesa Police, Consultant to the Phoenix FBI."

"That's pretty cool. A blind detective. I would've taken you for a telemarketer, but, two things threw me off. One, your blind, and two you are stunningly attractive." I smiled.

"Thanks. So, have you had any weird hospital calls recently?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. We had a man get stuck in his Hot tub. He was a bigger guy, and it was a smaller tub. We had to cut the side of the tub to get him out. What about you?"

"Well, I shouldn't say this, but we're working on a serial killer case."

"Really? That's cool! A couple of the guys at work convinced me I needed to get out. It's hard to find someone that understands working three days nonstop."

"I get that. I hardly left the office this week." The bell rung.

"I hope we can talk sometime again, Cori."

"I'll see to that, Axel."

The rest of the night was uneventful. I had four more dates; one with an Alien finder, one with a chef, one with an organic food retailer, and one with a college grad student. I elected to give my phone number to Axel and the organic food dude. I only got Axel's back.

Meg came to escort me back to the car. I could've found it but she wanted the details of my 'night on the town'.

"I scored! I got this one guy; he was amazingly attractive aaaaaand he can cook! And this other really funny dude, he hunts aliens. Isn't that hilarious? And one other, he really likes murder mysteries, and he has the coolest name: Norman!"

"That's nice…Wait. Norman? Ugh, that guy called me hot…"

"That's a compliment," Meg pointed out.

"Not coming from him. I only got one guy: Axel, he works at the hospital."

"Ah, I remember him. I gave him my number, didn't get his back, though."

"Come on, I gotta get home, gotta be in the office by eight."

[x]-[x]

"Time magazine: '_Marvels of Modern Forensics: Detective LaVey'_:

Excerpt from LaVey's autobiography "Blind I"

"My love life? Well, basic information includes that I've never been married, I have had only three- Y'know what? You don't need to know any of this. It's really personal. Especially since the next thing on the list my publisher gave me is very Personal, so, no, you aren't getting any more from that." Ever tenacious, that LaVey.


End file.
